


The Tradition: Year 6

by elizaye



Series: FWB!verse [23]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M, Movie Night, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaye/pseuds/elizaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas doesn't make it to the movies this year. Dean doesn't like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tradition: Year 6

“If they don’t get here soon, they’re gonna miss the movie,” Jess says.

“Yeah, I shoulda known to pick them up on the way over,” Dean says.  His shift ended about ten minutes ago, and he headed here straight after, only to find Jess waiting alone—Sam’s apparently inside, saving seats, but Lisa and Cas haven’t gotten here yet.

Then Lisa’s walking over, but she’s alone.

“Hey,” Dean says when she’s near enough to hear him.  He leans in for a kiss.  “Dude, where’s Cas?” he asks, pulling away.

“He can’t make it tonight,” Lisa says.

“He what?  Why not?”

“Some professor is really, really sick, so she asked Cas to lecture in her place tomorrow morning.  I tried to talk him into coming anyway, but…” Lisa shakes her head.  “Anyway, that’s why I’m late.”

“Speaking of late, we should head inside,” Jess says, turning toward the doors.

“Is Sam saving seats?” Lisa asks as they enter the building.

“Yep!” Jess answers.

“Great.”

Dean can’t help but feel really bummed for Cas.  He knows that Sam gave Cas a giant book containing a shit-ton of Sherlock Holmes short stories—and novels, maybe? Dean isn’t sure—and that Cas really, really liked it, so it’s a shame that he’s gotta miss the movie.  It was released almost a month ago, but when they’d gone to the movies last month, Dean and Lisa had wanted to see _Avatar_ instead, and Cas had been fine with it.

That’s okay, though.  He’s sure Cas will be able to watch it at some point.

Yet there’s still this uncomfortable feeling in his chest, and he doesn’t like or understand it.

“ _Dean_ ,” Lisa says sharply, and Dean sees that she’s frowning at him.  They’re already in the wide hallway that holds the entrances to all the theaters.  “What’s wrong?”

“Long day at work,” Dean supplies, because he can’t really figure out why he feels all funky, and he doesn’t like discussing his feelings, anyway.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lisa says as they follow Jess into the theater.  “I still don’t understand why you didn’t just take the day off.  It’s fine to work on Sundays, but today’s your birthday.  It’s not as though Bobby wouldn’t let you skip.”

Dean shrugs.  “What can I say?  I like my job.”

And it’s true.  He’s always loved tinkering with cars, and sure, maybe he’s a bit overqualified for his job—Professor Ferris said that he was one of her favorite students, and that he could totally go work as an engineer for NASA, or something more glamorous than working as a mechanic in an auto repair shop—but Dean likes it here in Lawrence, and he can’t see himself going anywhere else for an extended length of time.

Meanwhile, Lisa just shrugs and says, “Whatever floats your boat.”

Then they’re climbing up the steps to where Sam’s sitting, and Dean notes that the theater’s barely half-full, which is awesome because that means he gets to put his feet up.  This is why he likes going to movies after they’ve been out for a while.

Dean sits down and reaches past Jess to smack Sam’s arm.  “Sammy,” he says, grinning.

Sam huffs, amused.  “Happy birthday, Dean.”  Then he asks, “Where’s Cas?”

“Apparently a professor got sick, and he’s filling in,” Jess explains.

“Oh,” Sam says, frowning.  “Was it Professor Masters?”

Dean shrugs and looks at Lisa, whose forehead is scrunched up in thought.

“Y’know, I think it might have been,” she answers.

“Oh, wow,” Sam says.  “She teaches this one class pretty exclusively—Ethics Concerning Ancient Artifacts.  I’m taking it next semester.”

“No kidding,” Dean says, surprised.  “So Cas might be your TA, huh?”

Sam rolls his eyes.  “It’s not all that shocking, is it?  I’m taking a ton of classes that he took when he was an undergrad, and given the choice, of course he’d TA for classes that he’s taken before, so—”

“Oh shut up, smartass.”

Sam laughs but doesn’t continue, so Dean counts that as a win.  Jess asks Sam something quietly, and Dean’s about to make a remark about how they can have their private chitchats when they’re _in private_ when Lisa taps his arm, stealing his attention.

“Are you coming over after dinner tonight?” she asks.

Dean’s about to say yes, but that uncomfortable feeling from before flares up, and he thinks that now he sort of recognizes what it is.  “No,” he answers.

“Oh,” Lisa says, frowning.  “Why not?”

“I uh, I’m pretty tired.  I think I’d rather just go home and knock out,” Dean answers.

“Do my ears deceive me, or is my brother actually turning down sex?” Sam asks, butting into the conversation, and Dean swivels around to shoot a glare at him.  Sam looks way too smug.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be making lovey-dovey small talk?” Dean says.

“It’s not as though you two were lowering your voices.  It would’ve been hard for us _not_ to overhear,” Jess says.  Then she adds, “And besides, I save all my lovey-dovey small talk for the bedroom.”

Sam’s face turns red enough that it’s noticeable even in the dim lighting, and Dean joins Lisa and Jess in laughing at him.  And then Sam’s reaching over to smack Dean.

“Cut it out, guys—the previews are starting,” he hisses.

Dean’s about ready to continue the teasing, but the lights get even dimmer, and it seems the previews really are starting.  “All right, you’re off the hook,” Dean mutters in Sam’s direction.

The first trailer is for some sort of action flick, and the first thing that pops into Dean’s head is Cas’s voice, saying something to the effect of, “Oh, another car chase. Because that hasn’t been overdone at all.”  He grins despite himself and decides he’s gonna have to drop by Cas’s apartment tonight, because hey, it’s tradition.

* * *

It’s about ten thirty, and Castiel finished his lecture notes about twenty minutes ago, but he’s going back through them another time so that he’ll have everything down.  Professor Masters has her lectures recorded and archived, and if he gives a subpar lecture, there’s a good chance that she won’t want to hire him back next semester.

And even if this wasn’t necessarily his favorite course to take, he really enjoyed TA-ing for it in the fall, because there are only three papers total, and since Masters likes to grade the final paper on her own, Castiel only has to grade two sets of papers.

He’s skimming through his notes for a third time when he hears his front door being unlocked from the outside.  There’s a chance that it could be Dean, except that there isn’t, because Dean’s surely at Lisa’s by now.  Castiel swiftly and silently gets to his feet and rushes to the door, snatching up his broom—because since he started baking, he’s learned that he needs a broom to curtail the resulting devastation in his kitchen—on the way over.

The door opens wide, and Castiel _swings_ —

“Holy fuck!” Dean yelps, and it’s too late for Castiel to stop his momentum, but Dean leaps backward, and thankfully the broom strikes his upper arm instead of his head.

Castiel freezes, eyes wide, hands still tight on the broom handle.

“What the _hell_ , Cas!” Dean grouses, rubbing his arm.

“Dean.”

“Yeah.  _Dean_ ,” Dean says, mimicking the way that Castiel says his name.  “ _Give_ that to me,” he adds, and Castiel surrenders the broom when Dean grabs the end closer to him and gives a mighty tug.

“I didn’t think it would be you.”

“Dude, who else has a key to your apartment?”

“I thought someone was picking the lock,” Castiel says—very reasonably, he thinks.  Dean just raises an eyebrow.  “What are you doing here, anyway?” Castiel asks.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dean says evasively.  When Castiel frowns at him, Dean gives in.  “It felt wrong, not seeing you all day.  I mean, it’s been a tradition for us to spend our birthdays together, right?”  That much is true, so Castiel nods.  “Okay, great.  So you gonna let me in, or what?”

“Very well, Dean.”  He backs up to let his friend inside and closes the door behind him.

“You’re done with your lesson plan, right?” Dean asks as he toes his shoes off and heads farther into the apartment.  The broom is deposited in its usual corner.

“Yes,” Castiel answers.

“Great, ‘cause we’re watching a movie.”

“Dean, I don’t think—”

“Not at the movies,” Dean interrupts.  “Here—I brought the movie.”  He brandishes a DVD at Castiel, who hadn’t even noticed it because of his broom mishap.  “You got any beer?”

“Of course.”

Castiel heads over to the kitchen.  He doesn’t even like beer all that much, but Dean comes over often enough that he always stays well-stocked.  Tugging the fridge open, Castiel pulls out three bottles and returns to the living room in time to see Dean lounging on the couch with the remote control.  The television is already on the title menu of a DVD, and Castiel identifies the movie as _Underworld: Rise of the Lycans_ as he places the beers down on the coffee table.

“You _must_ be joking,” he says, giving Dean an unimpressed look.

Dean ignores his statement.  “Dude, only three beers?  Aren’t you—”

“I have a class to teach tomorrow morning.  I’m not going in with a hangover.”

“All right, fine,” Dean says, rolling his eyes.  “And no, I’m not joking.  You skipped out on my birthday movie this year, so this is your punishment.”

Castiel shakes his head.  “As if being your friend isn’t punishment enough,” he says, settling down beside Dean with a dramatic sigh.  Dean only chuckles and hands him an opened beer before opening another for himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” Dean says as the Screen Gems symbol flashes on the screen, quickly followed by Lakeshore Entertainment.  “I’m a joy to be around.”

“Of course.  That’s exactly what you are.”

“Okay, shut up and watch.”

Castiel takes a sip from his beer and listens to Kate Beckinsale’s voiceover, setting the story.  Viktor shoots a werewolf, and a naked infant lies crying on the ground.

Oh, it’s Lucian—right, this is supposed to be a prequel.  Perhaps it will be more enjoyable than the previous two films of the series, then.

Then Castiel catches Dean grinning at him.  “If you’re going to tease me, you might as well get it over with now,” he says.

“What?  I would never,” Dean says.  He takes a drink and tilts his head toward the screen in an attempt to get Castiel’s attention back on the movie.

Castiel shakes his head but lets it slide, because between the two of them, he is obviously the better man.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Castiel admits that this movie was much more coherent than the first two.

“See?  I _told_ you that you’d like this one better,” Dean says, grinning.  Castiel’s mildly surprised by the complete openness of the expression, and then he remembers that Dean’s been drinking—he’d gone to grab another two more bottles for himself while there was a lull in the action.

“You only said that because of Michael Sheen’s presence.”

“Well sure.  You like him, right?”

“I do.  But the film overall is also more streamlined and engaging than its predecessors.”

“Y’know, sometimes I think I’ve trained you well enough that you’ll actually sound like a normal human being when you open your mouth, but then out comes… well, _that_ ,” Dean finishes, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“Very well-phrased,” Castiel comments.

“Oh, shut up.”

Castiel smiles.  “I think it’s time for bed.  I’m going to take a shower.  Are you…”

“Staying,” Dean says.  “‘m not exactly drunk, but I don’t wanna risk my baby.”

“Of course.  Would you like to shower first?”

Dean shakes his head.  “Nah, you go ahead.”

“I’ll be quick,” Castiel says.

Dean just waves a hand dismissively, so Castiel goes into his bedroom, grabs a change of clothes, and enters the bathroom.  He showers quickly, mindful that it’s just past midnight, and he’ll have to be up at seven.  He’s slept less, but he likes to get eight hours of sleep whenever he can.

When Castiel returns to the living room, Dean’s curled up on the couch, asleep, and the television is still on, but the screen is just looping the title menu of the movie, so Castiel takes the DVD out of the player, puts it back in the case, and turns off the screen and DVD player.

“Hmm—Cas?” Dean mutters, cracking an eye open.

“I’m done showering,” Castiel says, putting the case down on the coffee table.  “Get up.”

“Sleepy,” Dean answers, shutting his eyes again.

“Up,” Castiel insists, and he drags Dean’s upper body upward until he’s in a sitting position, at which point Dean shrugs him off with an annoyed huff.

“What do you want?”

“Bed.  You shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch—it’s too short for you.”

Dean rubs his eyes.  “Yeah, okay,” he says, getting to his feet slowly.  He sways a little, and Castiel reaches out to steady him.  “Sleepy and buzzed is a bad combo,” he comments.

Castiel chuckles and guides Dean toward the bedroom.  “Apparently.”

He lets go of Dean long enough to pull back the covers on his bed, and then Dean’s climbing in and tugging the covers up over himself.  Castiel turns to leave, but a hand on his wrist stops him.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” Dean asks.

Castiel frowns.  “The couch.  I’m not as tall as you.  It won’t be uncomfortable.”  Castiel had inherited the couch from their old apartment, and he’s certainly fallen asleep there once or twice in the past, and it’s long enough that he doesn’t feel too cramped.  Not the way that Dean would be, at least.

“Dude, I can handle a little manly bed-sharing.  Get in.”

“Dean…”

“Oh, come on.  It’s not as though this is the first time.  I promise I won’t violate you in your sleep, okay princess?”

“Thank you, Dean.  That’s exactly what I was worried about,” Castiel says dryly.  When he turns away again, the grip on his wrist tightens, and Castiel frowns down at Dean, whose brow is creased in consternation.  “I’m just going to turn off the light.”

“Oh,” Dean says, blinking, and his face smooths out.

This time, when Castiel walks away, Dean doesn’t stop him.  Castiel flicks the light switch to the off position and turns back around, lets his eyes adjust to the dark before crossing the room to his bed.  He slides under the covers and shivers a little when he’s surrounded by the cool sheets.  It’s January—of course it’s cold.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?” Castiel asks, turning to look at his bedmate.  Dean is lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Missing my birthday is not cool, ‘kay?”

Castiel smiles.  “If I could have gone today, I would have.”

“Well then… if you can’t come, I should be hearin’ it from you, got it?  ‘Cause it’s tradition, and you’re not allowed to just leave me hangin’.”

“And you always say that I’m the old-fashioned one,” Castiel says, but his smile fades as he belatedly registers what Dean’s _actually_ saying— _you’re not allowed to just abandon me_.

Dean snorts and closes his eyes.  “That’s because you are,” he says, but the humor in his tone is forced, and Castiel doesn’t like it.  Alcohol has always been able to loosen Dean’s tongue, and Castiel wonders whether or not he would even know how Dean felt about this if Dean didn’t have four beers swimming through his system right now.

“Dean…” Castiel shuts his eyes and stops himself from going any farther, because for some reason the next five words that came to mind were _I am not your father_ , and he doesn’t think that would have gone over well.  Mr. Winchester almost didn’t come home this winter, and though he usually returns at some point during the summer, according to Dean, he’s mentioned possibly being unable to come back then as well.  It’s a sore spot for both Sam and Dean.

“Mhmm?” Dean hums, and then he’s shifting onto his side.

When Dean is still again, Castiel opens his eyes and is startled by Dean’s proximity, his large, green eyes only a few inches away.  Castiel blinks a few times but doesn’t retreat, just looks his fill because he doesn’t think he’s ever been quite so close to Dean’s eyes before, and he doesn’t think it’ll happen again.

“Dean, I’m not going anywhere,” is what he settles on.

Naturally, Dean starts to clam up.  “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

“Please don’t,” Castiel interrupts.  “I’m trying to have a mature conversation with you.”

“Well that’s not fair.  I’m pretty friggin’ buzzed, and you expect me to have a mature conversation?”

Castiel smiles, cups Dean’s cheek with his left hand because Dean’s just inebriated enough that he probably won’t care too much about the contact.  As expected, Dean doesn’t really react to the touch, and Castiel waits until Dean’s eyes are on his before saying, “Dean, I just need you to listen, and to accept this.  I am not.  Going.  Anywhere.”

Dean blinks once, slowly, and Castiel takes the time to marvel at the delicate curve of his eyelashes, because he apparently likes torturing himself.

Then a warm hand settles over his, cool metal pressing against his index finger, and he watches the way Dean’s ring reflects the moonlight entering his bedroom.  “Yeah?” Dean murmurs sleepily, his thumb slowly rubbing circles around Castiel’s ring, and Castiel feels like he’s in first grade again, and Hester Lafayette is telling him to pinky promise her that they’ll be friends forever.

Castiel lowers his voice to Dean’s volume and answers, “I promise,” and there’s no pinky linking involved, but he knows that this is a vow that he won’t—can’t—break.  _I will never, ever leave you_ , he doesn’t tell Dean.  _You’ll never have to be alone, because I’ll be here._

He can’t say these things, because no matter how buzzed Dean is, he won’t be able to ignore them, and he certainly isn’t drunk enough to forget them.  So Castiel does the only thing he can do and thinks them as loudly as he can, wondering for one crazy moment if it’s possible to think something so hard that someone can lift your thoughts straight out of your face.

“Good,” Dean says, giving Castiel’s hand a squeeze before closing his eyes and pulling his hand away.

Castiel takes the hint and draws his own hand back, ignoring how cold it feels now.  He’s already been given far more than he ever thought he would, and he should be satisfied with it.  So he smiles, even though Dean can’t see it, and says, “Good night, Dean.”

“‘Night, Cas.”


End file.
